


You Can Close Your Eyes

by suchplausibilities



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Gen, Lena's first childhood trauma, Pre-Luthor Lena, mother-daughter bonding, pet death, what good parenting looks like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 12:45:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18811171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchplausibilities/pseuds/suchplausibilities
Summary: Niamh just wants her to be happy. She'll do whatever she has to to make that happen. She just hopes the universe is on her side on this one.





	You Can Close Your Eyes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bs13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bs13/gifts).



Lena learned the meaning of death on her fourth birthday.

Niamh had known the day she’d let Lena adopt the neighborhood cat that it was only a matter of time. He’d been wandering the streets for years - before Lena was born, even - looking old and pitiful enough to receive scraps and temporary shelter from empathetic residents. By the time Lena had found him, carried him into the house (quite the feat, considering how half the neighborhood had the scars to prove that he was more than a little temperamental), and declared that they needed to keep him so he’d be safe, he had to have been at least fifteen. But the two had bonded. Lena had already named him (Tommy, of course, since he was tomcat), he already followed her as if she was his only reason for living, and any attempt to convince either of them that it was better for him to remain an outside cat was rebutted with twin glares. If they’d already chosen each other, who was she to deprive them of any time they might have to spend together?

She felt much less sure of that decision when, only an hour after her party had ended, Niamh found Tommy, who had disappeared only an hour or so ago, curled in a tight ball under the stairs, completely lifeless. She’d picked him up carefully, hastily formulating a plan: For now, she’d put him somewhere Lena couldn’t find him, and then return to retrieve him and bury him quietly in the backyard after Lena had gone to bed.

She’d managed to turn, take a deep breath, and take two whole steps before running into Lena.

Explaining things to her daughter was rarely difficult or complex. She’d learned very quickly that Lena was a bright, inquisitive girl, who thought quickly and broadly. It took very little time for her to grasp difficult concepts. She was very proud of this fact. She really wished, though, that the concept of death had been the exception.

But there was no confusion on Lena’s face as she finished speaking. There were no questions, no pleas, no lingering. Instead, after a few minutes of silence and a handful of tears, Lena nodded gravely, picked up the box Niamh had placed Tommy in before she’d sat them down to talk, and headed out towards the backyard.

They buried Tommy quickly, and without fanfare. Niamh sang a hopeful song, and said a few words of goodbye. Lena did not contribute.

Her daughter remained solemn and withdrawn the remainder of the afternoon, and Niamh found that there was nothing she could say that seemed to lift the burden her daughter held. Lena had never been swayed much by words, though. She’d need to show her.

As her plan formed, she looked to the little girl tucked tightly against the arm of the couch, smiled, and hoped for a clear night.

It was nearing Lena’s bedtime when her mother rose, grabbed a blanket, and reached for her daughter’s hand.

“Do I have to go now? I’m not really tired, mama.”

“Is that so? Well, that’s funny, because you know what? Me neither, love. That’s why I thought we’d go on an adventure, instead.” Lena’s eyes scrunched in confusion, a glimmer of curiosity diluting her melancholy just slightly. Niamh smiled. “Come on, then.”

She led them both out of the front door, stopping briefly on the porch so that they could both slip out of their shoes. When they’d made it down the two tall steps and onto the walkway, Niamh instructed Lena to stay put as she spread the blanket out onto the cool grass. When she was satisfied, she returned to her daughter, grabbed her hand, and led her gently over to the blanket.

She lay down first, patting the space beside her in invitation. Lena didn’t hesitate, lying down beside her mom and then snuggling closer, using the extra body heat to fend off the chill of the night. With a content sigh, she turned her head into the crook of her mother’s arm, suddenly feeling a little bit tired.

“Now, what are you doing that for? The show’s not down here, it’s up there!” She pointed straight up to the sky, keeping her arm aloft until Lena was looking in the right direction.”

After a few moments of silence, Lena tilted her head in confusion. “Stars?”

“Yes! Stars.” Niamh said excitedly, looping her arm more firmly around her daughter’s shoulders. “Do you remember what we learned about stars?”

“Yeah.” Lena nodded quickly, remembering how interesting that lesson had been. “They’re these balls of plasma, that are so big and strong that they have their own gravity that they use to stay together. And they shine so much because there are lots of tiny explosions happening inside them, all the time. So many that, even if you’re really, really, really far away like us, you can still see how bright they are.”

“Exactly, love.” Niamh turned over, kissing Lena on the forehead softly. “You know, one of my favorite things about stars is that, because they’re so far away, the light that we’re seeing is light that they made years ago!”

“I remember that! The book said it was like we were time travelling to the past.” Lena grinned, and Niamh’s heart lifted. Oh, this girl. This girl had all of her.

“Yep. You know what that means, don’t you?” When Lena shook her head, Niamh returned her gaze to the sky, smiling softly. “It means that, sometimes, even if the star has died, we can still see its light.” She waited a few moments, letting the silence wash over them both. “I think a lot of things are like that.”

When she turned her gaze back to Lena, her heart twinged when she saw that her head had dropped to her chest. Niamh practically held her breath, wanting to finish the thought, but wanting to make sure Lena was really hearing her.

After nearly five minutes of watching Lena fidget with her fingers silently, she nearly shouted in relief when she heard the soft, “How?”

Squeezing her daughter closer, she finally continued. “Because even if we lose somebody we love, and we have to keep going without them, we don’t just forget about them. Are you going to forget about how, in the morning, Tommy wouldn’t let me in the room unless you were already awake?” Lena’s soft smile answered before the shake of her head did. “What about how he always sat on the couch with his feet down and his belly out like a human, even though it made him look so silly?”

That one earned an actual laugh. “Nope. Plus I have a buncha pictures of it, so I can look at it whenever I want.”

“I know you won’t. I won’t, either. And that, lovelette, is his light. He may be gone, but we still see him. Whenever we look at his spot on the couch, or remember the silly things he did because he loved you so much, it’s like we’re travelling to the past. We get to see what he gave us all over again.”

Lena was crying again, but Niamh was grateful that she could see a hint of a smile, this time. It was a step in the right direction, at least.

Later that night, after the blanket had been thrown in the wash, their feet had been cleaned thoroughly in the bath, and Lena had changed into her favorite pyjamas ( _without_ feet, because she wasn’t a baby, of course), Niamh found that it took a more effort than usual to leave her daughter alone in her room after she’d tucked her in. It had been a hard, busy day, and she felt she owed her more comfort than what could be offered by a fairytale or two.

She’d just resolved to set aside her discontent and let Lena rest when she heard a sleepy mumble.

“Mama?” Lena let her head flop over heavily, a particularly dramatic indication of just how tired she was.

Niamh sat up on her knees, reaching a hand up to gently stroke her daughter’s hair, reassuring her that she was still there.

“What if I forget? Then the light is gone too, and Tommy’s really gone forever. I don’t want him to be really gone. How do I not forget?”

Swallowing the heart that had jumped into her throat, Niamh leaned in resting her forehead against Lena’s. “Oh, my sweet girl.” She paused for a moment, scrambling for a solution. “It’s hard to not forget when it’s just one person, but you and I are _two_ people. How about if you start to forget, you ask me, and I’ll remind you? And you can do the same for me. And then we’ll tell others, and they’ll tell others, and he’ll live forever.”

It didn’t feel right. Niamh always tried to avoid using Lena’s youth as a way to avoid telling her the truth, but that explanation felt to her as if she was doing just that. It was simplistic and incomplete and felt like a promise she couldn’t begin to keep. The truth of the matter, though, was that she didn’t know how else to give her daughter the peace she so needed right then. It would have to do.

As she’d hoped, Lena just smiled sleepily again, seemingly content enough to rest. “Okay, mama. If you promise.”

Oh, hell. She’d do anything for this girl, and that included making sure she followed through on this. No matter what. “Of course I promise, lovelette. Now, sleep.”

“‘Kay. Night, Mama.”

Niamh placed one last kiss to Lena’s forehead before she rose to her feet. “Goodnight, my love.”

**Author's Note:**

> For Bianca, my writing soulmate. This actually started as a drabble in a ten song shuffle challenge we were doing (if you don't know what that is, ask one of your fandom elders) but then spiraled out of control. She's amazing; go love her.
> 
> And also for Noam, who is constantly listening to me overanalyze literally everything and is super cool about it, and also gives me feedback when I need it because I am the Rachel Berry of writing. 
> 
> Title from the James Taylor song of the same name.


End file.
